


i want you here with me (like how i pictured it)

by alouise



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal, Barista Louis, Blowjobs, Bottom Harry, College, Fluff, M/M, Top Louis, a little ziam, and harry is stupid, and niall being niall, flustered Harry, i love me a little ziam, larry - Freeform, louis playing hard to get, then have sex, they meet at a poetry reading
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-06-30 00:39:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19841899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alouise/pseuds/alouise
Summary: AU. harry has always been in love with love. he absolutely adores everything about it, but he can't really say he's actually experienced being in it. louis is the first - and probably the only - person to change that.harry and louis meet at a spoken word meeting. there's sex, a lot of fluff, misunderstandings, and a spiderman mug.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello all! this is the first fic i am posting in a while, but i'm really glad to be back on this. college made me go away for a bit and i miss louis and harry a lot. here's just a very fluffy and cute fic where harry's a bit stupid and undeniably in love with louis. :)

"Express yourself. In here, we believe the best way to do that is through the words we write ourselves. Nothing is more invigorating for us than finding just the right group of words to string together to exactly state what we feel. And that is why we are gathered here again today: to share these words."

The senior speaking on the wooden platform beams at the crowd. Harry unthinkingly smiles back, almost automatically, not really minding the fact that the senior might not even see him. Liam's his name, is it? Someone - distinctly Irish - confirms his name from somewhere in the front, amidst the round of cheers and whooping, screaming, "Go, Liam Hunkydunk!"

Mixed laughter ripples through the crowd, and Liam chuckles amiably through it. When the crowd has quieted down, Liam says into the mic, "Alright, everyone, welcome to our third Express Yourself meeting! I'm really so ecstatic that this is already our third - can you believe it? - when I didn't expect we'd even do a second!" People chuckle again, and Liam smiles goodnaturedly. He's really good-looking, Harry thinks from the back of the bar. All puppy dog eyes and muscled arms and a charming smile.

"Now, I see many old faces in here-" a few cheers erupt from the crowd, and Harry lets out a quiet whoop- "and a handful of new faces. Let's give it up for the new faces!" A round of applause fills the bar, accompanied by whistling and whooping, and Harry really likes it here. He really does.

"Okay, I won't stand here and bore you guys any longer with formalities, so let's begin! First up, we have Selene James." Liam claps into the microphone as a girl in a plaid skirt and a white blouse steps shakily onto the stage, and the rest of the crowd follows to clap politely.

Harry opens his journal as Selene starts to croon about long lost love. Balancing it on his lap, he writes bits and pieces of the words she speaks (treasure, winding, simpletons, naivety) when someone takes the empty seat beside him on the couch. He doesn't look up, doodling in more words even as Selene finishes and the people around him give her a round of applause. The next reader - a spectacled lad in baggy jeans - takes Selene's place onstage and begins with his piece, and Harry starts to write the lad's words on his journal.

"Are you reading something tonight?"

The words are quietly spoken by a high, lilting voice beside him; a man's voice, nevertheless. Harry is forced to look up from his journal and is met with a handsome face and the bluest eyes he's ever seen. Harry doesn't think he's seen him in any meeting before; he'd definitely remember those high cheekbones and that very light and attractive scruff on his chin and above his lip.

Harry's mind blanks. He's beautiful. "Sorry?"

The man beside him - probably a junior or a senior - chuckles a little, and Harry sees the way his lips stretch out slowly into a charming smile. "I was asking if you're to read something tonight." He gestures towards the notebook, eyebrows raised in question.

Harry feels himself flush, shutting his journal quickly before saying, "Um, no, I'm not, just here to listen," he replies a little shyly.

The man hums. "You were writing something, though," he says with a teasing smile, quirking an eyebrow. He has very nicely arched eyebrows.

"Oh, those weren't my words, they were, um, theirs," Harry says,  _ very _ eloquently, gesturing vaguely towards the stage with an embarrassed cough at the end.

The man just blinks at him and then, suddenly like a firecracker, erupts into a loud cackle, making people around them shush him and shoot him glares. "Shit, sorry, sorry," he apologizes, not looking one bit sorry at all. He looks at Harry with a twinkle in his eyes and a large warm grin, and Harry honestly feels his stomach flutter with butterflies. "It's alright if you don't want to share your words to me, I quite understand," the man then says with a softer, kinder smile, and before Harry could reiterate that he was in fact  _ not _ writing his own words, the man holds out a hand and says brightly, "I'm Louis."

Louis. A beautiful name for a stunning man.

"Harry," Harry says in turn, slipping his hand into Louis' and shaking it. He definitely does not notice the way his hand completely engulfs Louis' dainty one, or that Louis holds on longer than necessary. Harry should stop overthinking, anyway, it's never done him any good.

They settle into a comfortable silence as a stout blonde girl talks passionately of the best friend who will never fall in love with her, and Harry hears Louis snort beside him when she says, "Never will I say what I really feel; never will he see what he does to me."

"What's wrong?" Harry asks Louis curiously.

Louis looks at him then from the corner of his eyes and says, "Well, it's a bit stupid, isn't it?" Harry frowns, a bit put-off, and Louis rushes to explain. "I mean, she says she'll never tell him how she really feels about him. If so, how can she expect that he'll see her feelings, then? Men aren't mind readers. She just can't keep expecting, it's unfair to the lad."

Harry's frown deepens, and he mulls over Louis' words in his head. They stay silent until the girl finishes and is met with a loud round of applause from the bar. When it quiets down again, Harry says, "I don't think... I don't think she expects him to see."

Louis’ eyes are bright, curious. "Why is that?"

Harry's getting a bit annoyed by now; he's never really liked explaining his thoughts through speech, he's always preferred to write. Plus, the way Louis is so fixated on him is making his heart race. He shifts uncomfortably. "I - I think she's just lost all hope. There must be a lot of factors why she refuses to tell him about her feelings, and petty as they could be, they aren't petty to her. I think she just feels lost because, even if she does tell him, she knows he won't see what he does to her, because it's that intense, you know? Her love for him must be too difficult to understand especially if unreturned."

His words are met by silence, and he flushes again. Couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you, Harry.

He takes a cautious peek at Louis beside him, and is surprised to see Louis already looking at him with a thoughtful smile on his face. Harry sees his eyes are twinkling, like they hold the sun and the moon and the stars and all the galaxies in between, and Harry wants to get lost in them.

"Let me guess," Louis says, still with that small smile. "English major?"

Easy laughter passes between them, and Harry's embarrassment and irritation dissipates as fast as it came. "Law, actually. But I do have some Philosophy classes."

Louis whistles lowly. "Wow. I'm a Drama major meself, probably explains why I haven't seen you around." Louis looks at him sideways. "Junior?"

"Sophomore," Harry says proudly, not even sure why he's saying it proudly, but. Harry's always come to terms that he is really a strange nut.

"Practically a baby, then," Louis says, sniffing the air, and Harry playfully punches him in the shoulder, which. Wow. He's never done that before. Harry's a firm anti-violence advocate. "Ouch! Fine, a toddler then. Babies are the freshmen."

Harry looks at him with an amused smile, and Louis winks. Harry's heart definitely does not skip a beat. That's just ridiculous.

"You a senior, then," Harry says, settling into the couch more comfortably. He definitely imagines the way Louis scoots just a little bit closer. Definitely.

"How did you know, psychic?" Louis teases, elbowing him rather sharply at his side.

Harry oofs, then says, "Well, considering you were looking down on all the younger batches..."

Louis lets out a surprised laugh, then quickly lowers his voice when people shoot glares at him again. "If you make me guffaw one more time, Harold, all these people around us will murder me."

"'M name's not Harold," Harry says cheerfully.

Louis pulls away, looking offended, but the smile that begins to curl his lips give him away. "Are you implying you don't mind if they murder me?"

Harry shrugs, a playful smile on his lips, and Louis pokes him mercilessly on his side, which leads to the realization that Harry is ticklish, which leads to Louis tickling Harry unyieldingly and Harry giggling and wheezing into his shoulder begging him to stop.

"Um, excuse me? The couple at the back?"

Louis suddenly stops tickling him and Harry resurfaces, slowly beginning to realize that Liam, who is now standing onstage with the mic at hand, is looking directly at the both of them.

"Yes, you two," Liam says with an apologetic, yet teasing, smile. "Would you two mind quieting down, please? We are trying to listen here."

Then Harry blushes furiously, because Liam thinks he and Louis are a-? "Um, sorry, no, we aren't-"

"Of course, of course, our apologies, Liam," Louis bellows into the room, bright smile on his face. "We'll take our couple-y activities somewhere else." Someone wolf whistles as Louis grabs Harry's arm and pulls him off the couch and to the door, and the catcalls and cheers of "go and get some, Tomlinson!" that erupt in the bar still resonate behind the both of them when they burst out onto the sidewalk and the crisp night air.

Louis smiles at Harry and laughs, and Harry's quite breathless. He's not entirely sure of the reason why, but he knows Louis' a part of it.

"Why'd we leave?" Harry asks breathlessly as Louis starts walking away from the bar. Harry can't help but follow; it's a Friday night anyway, and his first class tomorrow starts at two in the afternoon.

"It was getting boring in there," Louis says, his breath puffing out into the cold air. "Besides, I'd like to get a drink." Louis looks at him with that sideways grin, making Harry's heart flutter. "Wanna come with?"

Before Harry could even think it over, he's saying yes and Louis' smiling at him with those eyes as if Harry's the one made up of a million galaxies.

***

Harry's really drunk.

He doesn't know how many beers he's had, or how many shots of whatever Louis had ordered him, but damn, he's drunk off his arse. He can't stop giggling, and when he's not giggling, he's either staring at Louis' pink wet lips, asking to touch his brown feathery hair or poking his cheekbones.

"You're awfully pretty," Harry says unthinkingly, smiling down at Louis because Louis' adorably shorter than him even if they're sitting on barstools.

Louis smiles at him, his eyes crinkling at the sides, then starts to lean in, and Harry's heart begins to race because holyshitishegonnakissme but Louis brushes past Harry's lips to whisper in his ear, "And I think you're insanely gorgeous, Mr Styles."

The low drawl and raspiness in Louis' voice sends a rush of arousal through Harry that is even more intense paired with the alcohol in his system. Then he feels Louis' breath wash over his ear as a hand slides up Harry's thigh, and then Louis' lips are pressed just under his earlobe, sucking suggestively at the sensitive skin there.

"Fuck," Harry moans out, and the hand on his thigh tightens before Louis' pulling away. Harry tries to pull him back, whining, but Louis puts firm hands on his shoulders and says, "Let's take this someplace else, yeah?"

Harry looks at Louis with wide eyes; is this really happening? God, Louis is too gorgeous to be true. "Yeah," he breathes out, and Louis grabs his arm again and pulls him out of the pub just outside their university.

"My dorm's just there, come on, Harry," Louis says, brisk walking and tugging Harry along, and Harry giggles into his palm.

"Excited to fuck me, are we now?" he says through his giggles, and is a little surprised when Louis suddenly stops and whirls to face him with a fierce look in his eyes.

"Harry Styles, I have been hard for you since you started putting your hands all over me me in that pub, so if I don't have you naked and whining in my bed in the next fifteen minutes I swear on my mother that I will fuck you against that tree until you scream," Louis says in a scarily calm voice in one breath.

Harry fishmouths, terribly aroused by that one sentence. "Charming," he manages to choke out, and Louis groans before he's tugging Harry along again.

"Wait!" Harry says, trying to get them to stop.

"What is it now?" Louis demands, looking back at him, a desperate look in his eyes now.

"Kiss me first," Harry says, and when Louis doesn't move - only looks at him with disbelief - Harry adds, "Please, Lou."

"Oh, fer God's sake, come 'ere," Louis says, pulling Harry by his hips and crashing their lips together.

Harry moans into the kiss immediately because he can't help it; Louis tastes insanely good, a mix of mint and sweet and the shots they were having. His lips are soft and pillowy, moving sensually against Harry's own. Harry cups Louis' face and tilts his head to deepen the kiss, the answering moan from Louis a deep rumble that Harry can feel against his chest. Louis licks into Harry's mouth, sending fire coursing through Harry, and Harry answers back with his tongue, pressing it into Louis' mouth with all the skill and enthusiasm he can muster.

Then Louis bites down hard on Harry's lower lip, and the pain shoots straight down to his dick, making him moan obscenely loud and Louis pull away from him.

"Please, Harry, let's go now," Louis pleads, tugging him along, and Harry, still dazed from their first kiss, gets tugged along without complaint.

They stumble up the stairs, and the tension between them eases a little, causing them to laugh at each other tripping over their own feet. They kiss once more on the stairs, Harry trapped against the wall as Louis rubs his delightfully huge bulge against Harry's thigh, and then Harry's mumbling "bedbedbed" into Louis' lips, which is more than enough encouragement for Louis to pull away and lead him to his room.

As soon as Louis' closed the door and locked it behind him, their clothes are being ripped off of skin and strewn all over the floor, and Harry's not even sure how but they end up on Louis' bed, Harry on his back with Louis holding him down on top of him, making out completely naked. Their dicks brush against each other for the first time, and they both moan loudly in unison.

With a loud smack of the lips Louis pulls away from Harry and kneels on top of him, and Harry's breath gets caught when he sees Louis for the first time in all his naked glory. His skin is golden even in the dim moonlight, and has tattoos covering his arm and one on his collarbones, standing out beautifully against his skin. Louis is fit and compact, his stomach and arms muscular and toned. Harry gasps when he sees Louis' dick; it is undoubtedly the biggest Harry's seen, thick and pink, standing up against Louis' stomach proudly with a neat tuft of hair at the base.

Harry's so busy looking at Louis' glorious body that he misses the way Louis' eyes skim down his body hungrily, and is only called back to reality when he feels Louis' dainty hand wrapping around his cock. He moans as Louis starts to jerk him off, slowly and surely.

"Fuck, your dick's beautiful, Harry," Louis breathes out, looking in rapt at how his small hand is dwarfed by Harry's big dick.

Harry manages to snort between his moans. "Just my dick?"

Louis slaps Harry's dick lightly, succeeding in making Harry moan. "No, Harold, I think every single part of your body is absolutely beautiful. You're gorgeous, baby, absolutely gorgeous," Louis coos, still stroking Harry's cock, and his words send heat rushing through Harry, making his toes curl and his lips open to form a gasp because  _ baby _ .

"Are you really going to let me fuck you?" Louis asks, suddenly sounding hesitant. Harry opens his eyes - when did he even close them - and indeed sees Louis looking down at him uncertainly, concernedly.

"Yeah, yeah, fuck me,  _ please _ ," Harry rushes out, spreading his legs wide open under Louis. At the sight, Louis moans and grips at Harry's open thighs, ducking down to nose at the inside of them. He places kisses and sucks love bites on the warm, sensitive skin, making Harry sigh and squirm and whimper in the sheets.

"Gonna take care of you, baby, gonna make you feel so good," Louis whispers almost unthinkingly as he reaches over to his bedside table and pulls out lube and a condom from the top drawer. Harry puts a hand on his dick and strokes himself slowly as Louis uncaps the lube and spreads it all over his fingers. "Gonna prep you now, okay?"

Harry nods, biting his lip and letting out a whimper as Louis starts circling his finger around Harry's rim, trying to calm him. Louis then pushes one finger inside, Harry wiggling down onto it to get it deeper and deeper. Once Louis' finger is down to the knuckle, he experimentally curls it, and Harry lets out a long whine.

"Louis,  _ more _ ," he pleads, his eyes screwing shut, his hands gripping Louis' sheets.

Louis readily obliges, pulling his first finger out and coating it and another with more lube. When he pushes two fingers inside, Harry lets out a gasp and goes completely still, allowing Louis to push in easier.

"God, Harry, you're so tight," Louis says, slowly fucking two fingers into Harry's hole. "Can't wait to get my cock in you."

"Yeah, yeah, faster," Harry mumbles incoherently, his hips moving the tiniest bit to roll onto Louis' fingers. Louis speeds up the pace of his fingers, making sure to curl his fingers just right at the right moment. Not long after, Harry's a beautiful mess on the sheets, sweaty and whining and precum dripping from the tip of his cock. He feels like he's already so close, about to go over the edge and just let go, but then Louis' fingers are suddenly gone and he's whining even louder as his hole pitifully clenches on nothing but air.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, baby," Louis says soothingly, rubbing circles onto Harry's thigh with a hand. "Gonna fuck you now, okay, baby?"

"Yes, please fuck me," Harry moans, locking his eyes with Louis' lust-filled ones. "Want your dick, Lou, need to be full with your dick."

" _ Fuck _ ," Louis lets out, slipping on the condom and lubing up his cock. "Got a filthy mouth on you, baby. You a bad boy? Can you be a good boy for me so I can fuck you?"

Harry whines highly; he didn't even know he could get so turned on by this kind of dirty talk. " _ Yes _ ! Yes, please, I'll be a good boy, your good baby -  _ oh _ !"

Louis pushes his thighs open and lines himself up, pushing his head into Harry's hole. Harry's face screws up as Louis slowly sheathes his huge, thick cock inside Harry's tight hole.

"Goddamnit, Harry," Louis breathes when he bottoms out, his balls pressed up against Harry's. "Holy  _ shit _ , you're fuckin' tight, baby."

"And you're - ah - you're really big," Harry groans out, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he adjusts himself on the bed and Louis' cock nudges in even deeper.

"Does it hurt?" he hears Louis asks worriedly from above him, soft hands brushing Harry's hair away from his face and pressing soft, soft kisses onto his cheek, nose and lips; soft, soft kisses that make Harry's heart skip numerous beats. He opens his eyes and sees Louis staring down at him, forearms bracketing either side of his head, blue eyes wide with lust, yes, but also with concern. His lips are red and his cheeks are flushed, and Harry doesn't think his heart has ever beaten this fast during sex.

"I'm okay," Harry says slowly, and even he hears how breathless and in awe he is already. He's so embarrassed, because who even gets soft and cheesy in the middle of sex? And why did he have to do it in front of this particular gorgeous man? He can stop embarrassing himself now, thank you.

But Louis, the beautiful man he is, only smiles down softly at him and presses another soft, deep kiss onto his lips. "Just tell me when I can move, okay, cause you feel so fuckin' good," Louis says half-jokingly, half-aroused, biting his lower lip. Harry lets out a short breathless laugh, placing his hand on Louis' back and absentmindedly running his hand up and down.

After a moment, Harry nods, and Louis smiles wide, mischievous grin now on his lips. "Gonna fuck you good, baby," he says, then he pulls out slowly and pushes back in, the friction delicious for the both of them. Soft gasps fill the room as Louis continues with his slow, sensual thrusts, driving his cock in deeper Harry's hole with every roll of his hips. Harry brings his arms around Louis' neck and pulls him in for a slow kiss, and their mouths leave fire against each other's as Louis continues to thrust slowly into Harry, building up the pleasure.

And then Louis gets particularly deep and hits Harry's spot, and Harry can't stop the suddenly loud whine that spills from his lips and interrupts the cacophony of their quiet labored breathing. " _ There _ , right there," Harry whimpers against Louis' lips, gripping onto the other man's back as white-hot pleasure shoots through him.

"Faster?" Louis says with a strained voice and, as if he can't contain himself anymore, he indeed starts to build up the pace of his thrusts, hitting Harry's prostate with every slam into Harry's hole.

"Oh, oh, yes, faster," Harry moans as the room is suddenly filled with the sound of skin slapping on skin obscenely, and Harry feels himself bouncing hard on the bed from the force of Louis' thrusts. He can't keep the loud moans that spill from his lips now; Louis' so damn good at this, hitting Harry's tight spot with every thrust and sending wave after wave of pleasure in him.

Louis continues to pound into Harry, pausing for a short moment to lean in and press a rough passionate kiss onto Harry's whining lips as he rolls his dick hard into Harry's hole, then he pulls away and starts to slam properly into Harry, his pace never slowing down. Harry feels the delicious familiar heat building up in his abdomen, and his whines start to get louder to build up into screams, indecipherable screams that sound like repeats of "yes", "Louis", "fuck", and "harder".

"Gonna come for me, baby?" Louis says suddenly in a rough voice as he pounds into Harry's hole. "Gonna make yourself feel good?"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry moans out, letting out a high "fuck" when Louis slams into his prostate particularly hard. " _ God _ , I love your dick, Jesus, Louis, I need to-"

"Yes, baby, come for me," Louis says roughly, slamming in ever harder and faster, hands gripping so tight onto Harry's hips that they're undoubtedly going to bruise. "Let go, Harry baby."

Louis slams in three, four, five times more before Harry comes hard with a scream in his throat, comes so hard his eyes screw shut and his hands grip Louis' hair to pull roughly, and Louis' answering moan as he continues to pound into Harry's prostate easily makes this the most intense orgasm Harry's ever had, coming and coming endlessly onto his stomach. The white-hot pleasure that racks through Harry's body makes him writhe on the bed and tears build at the corner of his eyes.

Then Louis is suddenly pulling out, ripping the condom off of himself and jerking himself fast on Harry, and only now does Harry notice how red and turned on Louis is, blue eyes blown up and a beautiful red flush that reaches until the top of his torso. Their eyes lock, and Louis comes with a low, loud groan with their eyes trained intensely on each other's, Harry unable to bring himself to look away because Louis is gorgeous when he comes all over Harry's stomach, his mouth opening to let out a low moan and his eyes absolutely darkening as pleasure racks his whole body. Louis collapses beside Harry, half of his body draped over him, and they breathe heavily together as they both come down from their highs. Harry closes his eyes as his breathing turns into normal again, because  _ what the fuck that was the best fuck of his life _ .

He suddenly lets out a soft, slightly manic laugh, and Louis looks at him with slightly tired eyes and a less tired smile. "Why you laughin', babe?" Louis asks softly, pressing a gentle kiss on Harry's lips as if he can't help himself, and Harry's heart flutters.

"That was the best fuck in my life, to be honest," Harry says, and he hopes he's right when he hears the fondness in Louis' answering laugh.

"Mutual," Louis says simply, smiling at Harry with heart-wrenchingly soft blue eyes that settle in Harry's chest like it's permanent.

"Good to hear," Harry says with a giddy smile, and now he's the one that initiates a kiss, soft and unhurried and perfect.

Then he pulls away and says, "Now if you don't mind, I need to wash myself. You made quite a mess on my stomach."

Louis laughs louder now, looking absolutely beautiful and magical in the post-sex haze, and Harry knows that he falls way too hard way too fast, but he can't help it when the man beside him looks like an angel with the devilish roll of his hips. "It's that door over there," Louis says, pointing to a door by his dresser, and Harry gets up from the bed, making Louis groan in displeasure. "Ugh, get back in here, you're warm and cuddly."

Harry laughs fondly, already in love with the way Louis' soft hair fans out on the white pillow and his cheek is smushed against it. "You coming to wash?"

Louis lets out a muffled grunt in dissent, and Harry laughs again before turning away and letting himself into Louis' bathroom, closing the door behind him and taking a towel. He runs warm water over it, soaking the cloth and twisting it to let out some water. He splashes some on his face, fixes his sex hair as best as he could and walks out, trying to make himself look casual about it.

But he doesn't need to, because Louis is already sleeping peacefully on the bed, snoring loudly into the pillow. Harry rolls his eyes for no one with a fond smile as he gently turns Louis over to clean his stomach, the complaining grunt that leaves Louis' lips more endearing to Harry than it should be. Then Harry cleans his own stomach and then sets the towel onto Louis' bedside table, straightening up, and then, as he watches the way Louis curls into a pillow and flutter eyelashes on cheeks, it suddenly hits him like a train that this is probably the best time that he should leave.

Harry's never had a problem with leaving after a one-night stand; it's always been in other people's rooms and dorms, and he always leaves with an excuse and a hasty goodbye. He doesn't mean to make himself scarce or hard-to-get; he's just like that. He's never expected anyone for him to stay, and he never thought anyone would want him to. Besides, he's never liked sleeping in anybody else's bed.

But now, as he stares down at Louis, soft soft post-sex Louis with his feathery hair spread out all over the pillow and his soft mouth open to let out loud grunting snores, he suddenly finds it so difficult to pull away, and t _ hat's just ridiculous, Harry, what are you thinking, that he wants you to stay? If he wanted you to stay, he would have stayed awake to wait for you to get out of the bathroom _ .

After a moment's hesitation, Harry tears his eyes away from Louis' sleeping form and hurriedly puts his clothes back on, checking if he's got his wallet and keys at the pockets. He doesn't allow himself to think as he picks up the used condom and throws it in the bathroom, and he struggles to push all thoughts away when he puts the bottle of lube back into the top drawer of Louis' bedside table. No, he can't do this to himself. He can't keep meeting people like this. He can't fall in love this way.

But.

He finds himself looking down at Louis again, that weird ache in his chest spreading to the tips of his fingers and toes, and before he knows it he's leaning down to press the softest kiss onto Louis' pink lips. Then he turns away quickly and stalks out the door, ignoring the screaming protests in every cell of his body that begs him to  _ staystaystay _ .

And if he hears Louis' soft voice calling out a sleepy, "Harold?" from the bedroom door just as he closes it... well, we can say that Harry's convinced he imagines it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reaching all this way! let me know in the comments if you'd like me to continue this. :) i am personally bursting with feels just writing this WOW i can't believe how much i missed writing these two boys. hehe all the love to you guys! x


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand here we are, back with the second chapter! if you miss the boys and larry, read through the fic. i miss them so much and it's great revisiting this relationship huuu belated happy nine years to our favorite band in the whole world <3

"You're miserable," Zayn says abruptly.

Harry looks up from the paperback he's reading from the couch to peer cautiously at his roommate, who isn't even looking at him as he is painting another one of his artistic abstract shit on a canvas on an easel by the telly. Zayn's always creating something artistic; whether it may be through painting, drawing, graffiti or getting another tattoo, Zayn's always making art. He's a quiet soul, deep and complex and true, and Harry loves him for that. He's a bit like Harry, but where Harry is in love with people, Zayn isn't so much.

"What makes you say so?" Harry asks innocently, memories of blue eyes and crinkly smiles already being pushed away from his mind.

"I just know, H," Zayn replies, still not tearing his eyes from his painting. "You've been, I don't know, more of a recluse? Since the night of that third Express Ourselves meeting."

"Express _Yourself_ ," Harry corrects absentmindedly, shutting his paperback softly. He turns it over in his hands, images of warm hands and soft kisses invading his senses. He sighs softly.

"There," Zayn says, turning from his painting to look at Harry with his deep brown eyes. Zayn really is gorgeous, with his carved jawline and his pouty lips, and Harry often wonders why he didn't fall in love with him. "That's what I'm talking about."

"What?"

Zayn rolls his eyes. "You sigh a lot, all the time now. It's been three days of this since that meeting, and whatever happened, I'm hoping you can get over it soon."

Harry groans, his resolve cracking as he puts his head in his hands in defeat. "But I can't get over it, Z. I don't know what's wrong with me," he says in defeat, his voice a bit muffled.

He hears Zayn set his paintbrush in his cup of brushes and pad over to Harry, feels the dip of the couch when Zayn sits beside him. He feels Zayn stare quietly at him and can almost picture the way Zayn's brown eyes look at him with that sad, pitying look, and when Harry peeks at him from between his ringed fingers Zayn looks just like the picture Harry painted him to be in his head.

"Wanna talk about it?" Zayn asks cautiously, and it's never really been a thing for them to share about their private lives - sure, they're close mates, Harry opens up to Zayn about his past and Zayn opens up sometimes about his, plus they go out for pints a lot and have good laughs every now and then - but this; Harry's never really shared anything about his love life, so when Zayn asks this question Harry just bursts.

"I met this most amazing guy last Friday night, Zayn, and I may have ruined any chance - however remote it may be - to have him," Harry blurts out miserably. "He's bright, and beautiful, and so full of laughter, Zayn, and I left him naked and basically passed out without even a single goodbye-"

"Woah, woah, slow down, mate," Zayn says, looking slightly alarmed. "You did what?"

Harry sighs dramatically. "I said I left him naked and basically passed out-"

"Start from the beginning, please," Zayn interrupts with an exasperated sigh of his own.

So Harry tells Zayn about meeting Louis - god, even _thinking_ of his name makes a sharp pain hit Harry in the chest - at the Express Yourself meeting three nights ago, about how completely charming Louis was from the get go, how Liam the Senior had thought they were a couple (Zayn blushes at the mention of him and Harry stows away that information in his brain for future use), how Louis brought him to the pub just outside their uni, how they went back to Louis' room and did _it_ (Zayn did not want to hear the gory details) and the difficult part - how Harry left without even saying goodbye. Harry mentions how he was so quick to leave that he even forgot his journal somewhere in Louis' house.

"You know how it is, Z, people don't usually stay over after a one-night stand," Harry rants miserably, playing with his fingers. "So I didn't. When I came back from the bathroom and saw him asleep, I just - I just bolted from there. Didn't even say goodbye or leave a note, nothing. I didn't - I didn't know if he wanted me to stay," he finally admits, his heart sinking even lower down to his stomach.

There's a moment of silence between them when Zayn stares at him with those uncomfortably deep brown eyes, piercing through Harry as if Zayn can see right through him. Then Zayn says, "But you wanted to. Stay, I mean."

Harry looks at him with a sad look and, after a moment's hesitation, nods slowly.

"Then why didn't you?" Zayn says exasperatedly, throwing his hands in the air.

"I told you, I didn't know if he wanted me to stay!" Harry replies back just as exasperatedly. "Besides, it isn't protocol to stay the night after a one-night stand-"

"Oh, shut up with your bloody protocol, Harry, you know that's bullshit," Zayn says, rolling his eyes. Harry's a bit taken aback; Zayn's usually very mild, especially when it comes to giving advice. "I say you should just go up and talk to him. You could ask him for your journal back, you know." Zayn raises an eyebrow at him. "What did you say his name was?"

"I didn't." Zayn looks at him with that arched eyebrow, and Harry sighs. "His name's Louis Tomlinson."

"Louis Tomlinson?" Zayn says incredulously, and then starts to laugh loudly, louder than Harry has ever heard him laugh. Harry gapes at him, and when Zayn sees his face he laughs even harder.

Harry pouts. "What's so funny?"

"You've fallen in love with _Louis Tomlinson_?" Zayn says, wiping at his eyes and snorting uncontrollably like it's hilarious, which. Harry doesn't even understand why. "Mate, Louis is the captain of the uni football team, plus he's the biggest loser in the world. A smart, funny, dramatic loser, but a loser nonetheless," Zayn adds, chuckling fondly.

Harry narrows his eyes, eyebrows furrowing. "You say that like you know him."

" _Know_ him? Harry, I went through secondary school with him. He's a little shit, but he's a good little shit. I've been out for pints with him sometimes, actually, and we used to write music together." Then Zayn widens his eyes in guilt. "Don't tell him I told you that. It's kind of a secret."

Harry can't quite believe his ears. _Zayn knows Louis?_ "You know this gorgeous piece of a man and you neglected to tell me about him?" Harry squeaks in a high voice, his tone slightly hysterical. "If you did, I wouldn't even be having this problem right now!"

"It never occurred to me, mate!" Zayn says, holding his hands up defensively. Then he laughs, the goddamn nerve of him. "Oh god, this is absolute _gold_. I can't wait to set you guys up."

Harry's thoughts screech to a halt. "Wait, wait, what? Set us up?"

"Of course," Zayn says, lowering his hands and blinking at Harry. "You can't just expect me to sit here and watch you two idiots prance around each other forever. Louis' like that, you know, there was this guy in secondary that he was absolutely in love with, and all he did was throw insults at him and push him-"

"Okay, stop, I don't wanna hear about Louis' previous conquests," Harry says, going for joking, but an an ugly twinge of jealousy pops up in his heart.

"Aw, is wittle Harry jealous?" Zayn says with a teasing pout, laughing loudly when Harry swats at him, blushing a fierce red.

When Zayn's laughter dies down, Harry crosses his arms and stares resolutely at the telly in front of him, frowning. "Seriously, Zayn, don't set us up, please."

Zayn begins to protest, "But Harry-"

"Really, mate, I'll - I'll go up to him and talk if I see him, alright?" Harry says defeatedly, and Zayn lets out a whoop. "But only if I just happen upon him. I'm not gonna stalk his classes or anything, I'll just let it happen if it's meant to happen."

Zayn raises a skeptic eyebrow at him. "You are so stalking him."

"Am not!" Harry cries defensively, shoving at him. Zayn giggles, looking at him with knowing eyes.

"You so are."

***

Harry is _not_ stalking Louis.

He's just... taking a longer route from his classes back to his dorm at the end of each day, intending to get some fresh air after classes to calm himself down, and if he happens to pass by the football field and catch glimpses of Louis running around sweaty in shorts that show off his amazing arse, then that is entirely coincidental.

Really.

It's Thursday morning, and not once in the past two days did Harry have the courage to actually go down to the field and greet Louis. He thinks it would be weird if he did that, anyway; he'd feel even more like a stalker, which he isn't. He isn't stalking Louis, okay? He's just... trying to find a way to talk to him and maybe get his journal back, that's all. And if it requires a bit of hanging about and staring at the man in question from afar like a creep, then Harry's all for it.

Zayn's finished all the coffee they had in stock at the dorm, so Harry's heading over to the little coffee shop Zayn told him about just outside their uni - on the way there, he passes by the pub he and Louis went to on that night, which he studiously avoids - to get a cup of coffee before his first class. He enters the shop, shivering slightly from the November cold and a little bleary-eyed from sleep still, standing at the end of the line with shoulders hunched over and hands warm in his coat pockets. He looks around like in a trance, smiling softly at the shop around him; he decides he likes it here, all warm and wooden and quaint, and the ambience of the shop is just exactly what Harry likes. Maybe he should go here more often to write. Yes, maybe he'll do just that. There's a little table by the corner of the shop that's a bit secluded from the rest, yes, perfect.

The line moves forward and he's the third nearest to the counter, and when he glances sleepily towards the front he suddenly sees feathery brown hair and piercing blue eyes and a defined jawline, and Harry's heart just about stops. He quickly looks away, hiding his face in his scarf, his heart starting to pound rapidly in his chest. Harry is suddenly very much wide awake. _Holyshitholyshitholyshit, is that...?_ He takes a peek over the girl's head in front of him and yes, it is Louis _bloody_ Tomlinson standing behind the counter, taking people's orders and cashing in their money and fucking smiling at them and saying _thank you, have a nice day!_ and being a complete and utter sunbeam at arse o'clock in the morning.

Harry panics.

The line moves forward, making him second just behind the girl who is now ordering a coffee, and Harry ducks behind her, his heartbeat racing like a damn horse. It's _Louis bloody Tomlinson_ , standing right there behind the cash register, suddenly so close to Harry and it's honestly driving him insane. His hands start to shake, and his mind fumbles frantically for something to say. Should he just say hi? Should he be casual and aloof? Should he even acknowledge Louis at all? What does one even do in situations like these? Maybe he should just say hi. Yeah, he'll acknowledge Louis and leave it up to him whether or not he wants to talk-

"Hi, may I take your order?"

Harry looks up in surprise, and the moment their eyes meet Harry knows that Louis recognizes him, because Louis' mouth opens the smallest fraction and his eyes widen at the sight of Harry. Harry hears him take in a sharp breath, and his blue eyes are just as beautiful as Harry remembers them to be, and in the morning he looks like sunshine, all cleaned up and hair swept to form a quiff, and it's just too much for Harry to take all at once so he promptly drops his phone to the floor.

He hears a dreadful crack, and Louis' eyes follow his phone that crashes to the floor, and then go back up to look at him in concern. And all Harry could say is, "Oops."

Then he quickly bends down and snatches his phone from the floor, catching a glimpse of the wonderfully cracked screen before he quickly pockets it and straightens up, shooting Louis a nervous smile.

Louis returns the smile, though it looks a little strained. "Everything okay over there?"

 _He's speaking to me, dear Lord._ "Yeah, yeah, it's okay," Harry says with an almost robotic smile on his face, waving his hand in the air. "'S all good, all good."

Louis looks at him like he doesn't believe him, with a little quirk at the side of his lips, and Harry groans to himself because Louis is just _so pretty_. "If you say so. Alright, Harry, what can I get you?"

Harry's heart quickens when he realizes that Louis remembers his name. "You remember me?" he blurts out, not realizing how needy and desperate he sounds until he says it. He blushes, embarrassed.

Louis looks at him pointedly. "Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?"

Harry fishmouths. "Well, I - I don't know, I didn't think you'd bother remembering me-"

"Harry," Louis interrupts with an eyebrow raised, the humor he usually has in his eyes gone from sight. "I wasn't the one who left while the other was sleeping." 

A dreadful silence settles over the both of them, and Harry's heart shatters and all the little shards scatter to the pits of his stomach, gutting him. Is this what it feels like to be heartbroken? Harry thinks miserably as he stares at Louis, who is staring back at him with an accusing look in his big blue eyes. Harry opens his mouth to apologize, but nothing comes out.

After a few moments of more awkward silence, Louis sighs and looks away, and the disappointed look in his eyes causes the shards of Harry's heart to actually disintegrate in his stomach. Yes, he has indeed royally screwed up.

"You know what," Louis says into the tense air, "let's just forget about it, alright? I'll just take your order, you'll claim it, then you'll be on your way as if nothing happened." Louis looks up at him with another strained smile, and it looks so wrong on his beautiful lips. He should be staring at Harry with sunshine and starlight shining from his eyes, not disappointment and bore.

"But I don't want to forget," Harry whispers, so quietly that Louis doesn't quite catch it.

"Sorry?" Louis leans in a bit forward, and Harry then sees a small spark of something that looks like interest or hope in his eyes, but Harry doesn't want to assume he has a chance with this beautiful boy just so he can be heartbroken all over again.

"It's nothing," he says instead, fidgeting with the rings around his fingers. "Can I just get your Classic Americano?"

Again, the disappointed look in Louis' eyes appears, and Harry feels even worse when Louis suddenly closes himself off, drawing back from Harry and transforming his face to become impassive and disinterested. He looks at Harry with dead eyes, and that hurts Harry more than it should.

In a clipped voice, Louis states how much Harry's coffee is, and when Harry pays him he immediately pushes the change to him on the counter and calls out for the next person in line. Harry clumsily tries to take the coins, but then he drops them and they scatter noisily on the floor. It would be an understatement to say that Harry was deeply embarrassed picking up all those coins right in front of everyone and Louis, who was not even looking at Harry at all.

Harry takes his coffee from the claim counter and dashes out of the shop, face red in shame and dangerously close to tears.

***

"Zayn, it was absolutely _dreadful_ ," Harry whines when he sees Zayn standing by the water fountain where they meet for lunch on Thursdays. Other students mill about the corridor, and the sun illuminates the courtyard outside with a mild glow. In all aspects, it _should_ be a beautiful day, if not for the catastrophe that was this morning.

Zayn raises a slightly offended eyebrow. "Hello to you, too."

Harry ignores him and just buries his face into Zayn's shoulder, letting out a groan of defeat. "Louis basically told me to fuck off. Did you know he works in that coffee shop you told me about this morning?"

Zayn is unexpectedly silent above him, and then Harry comes to realize the truth behind what he just said.

He pulls away from Zayn and deadpans, "You set me up, didn't you."

At least Zayn has the decency to look a little ashamed when he nods his head, Harry thinks. Still, doesn't make up for the fact that Zayn went behind his back and did this to him: first, finishing all the coffee they had at their dorm and, therefore, giving Harry a reason to go to the coffee shop Louis works in.

He sighs. It would be unfair to Zayn if Harry were to get mad at him; he was just thinking about helping Harry, after all. "'S okay, mate, just forget about it," Harry says as he starts to walk away, already trying to push the matter out of his mind to decide on where to eat. "Where do you wanna-?"

"No, Haz, wait," Zayn says, grabbing Harry's wrist to stop him from walking away. Harry looks back and raises an eyebrow in question, and Zayn just shakes his head. "You can't give up on him."

Harry's a little surprised at that. "What-"

"Look, I can't tell you much, alright, but there's a reason why Louis is so upset about you leaving without telling him beforehand," Zayn says, then winces. "God, don't tell him I told you that either."

Now Harry's a little more bewildered and significantly more confused. "What are you insinuating?"

Zayn mumbles something like "leave it up to Harry to use the word 'insinuating' in a normal sentence," then he says in perfectly normal volume, "Just don't give up on him, alright? Louis' a good lad, and I guarantee you that he's worth it."

Harry still doesn't understand. He narrows his eyes suspiciously. "What's in it for you?" he asks half jokingly.

With a perfectly straight face, Zayn answers, "Louis' one of my best friends. I just want him to be happy."

Harry mulls over Zayn's words as they head over to the diner a few blocks down from their uni, not really paying attention to what Zayn is saying about his new art work or summat. He can't help but have his thoughts drift to the beautiful blue-eyed lad he had met just nearly a week ago, and a little part of him is saying that it probably isn’t a good idea to fall in love so quickly, that he should really get a grip and stop it with this obsessive nature; but another, louder part is telling him not to give up on this guy. Harry remembers the emptiness he saw in Louis' eyes that morning, and that seals his decision.

He's going to win Louis' heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading thru! am planning to post a chapter wednesday every week until the end :) thank you all! comments and kudos will be much much much appreciated! spread love always x


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